


In The Event: Aftermath

by mansikka



Series: In the event [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas try to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Event: Aftermath

“We never talk, Dean.” Cas' voice is still cold, and Dean winces, but he knows he has to force his way through any discomfort he feels.

“Alright,” Dean says, his voice full of trepidation. “Let's say you and me. Talk. Right now. No holding back. Even if it's hard. We need it, right?”

“At this time of the morning?” Cas asks, disbelievingly.

Dean spreads his hands, reasoning with him. “Hey. I can't sleep, I figure you can't sleep. Might as well do it now, right?”

“And you believe one conversation will fix everything, Dean?” Cas' voice is skeptical, bordering on sarcastic. Dean bites down on his tongue to stop any kind of retort escaping.

“No. I  _ don't _ , Cas. But we have to start somewhere.”

After a pause, Cas gives a reluctant, “Okay,” and shuffles a little in the bed.

“Okay,” Dean echoes, immediately lost for words.

Cas stares at him, waiting.

“Okay,” Dean repeats. “So. I guess first I owe you... all kinds of apologies.”

Dean's eyes seek out patience, and understanding, even when he knows Cas has none to give right now. “I'm sorry, Cas. For everything. For... you know.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You are going to have to be more specific.”

Dean lets out a long, slow breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm working up to it, okay?”

Cas gives a small breath himself, waiting for Dean to continue.

“I'm sorry I keep... I'm sorry I... I...” Dean slumps back in his chair with a rough laugh. “How the hell do people do this?” he asks, more to himself than Cas.

“I do not know.” Cas tells him, in a small, sad voice that just makes Dean feel terrible.

“Alright. So let's start over. You,” he points at Cas, “Are not going anywhere. I mean, I'm not saying you can't leave, I'm saying you don't  _ have  _ to leave. Whatever I've made you feel, you'll always be welcome here. And more to the point, I don't  _ want  _ you to leave.”

Cas looks down at his hands, not trusting himself to keep his expression neutral. “I haven't felt welcome here in a long time,” he says softly. “I haven't felt welcome anywhere near  _ you  _ for a long time, Dean. I kept thinking I had done something wrong, and I kept trying to understand why, or what.”

Cas allows himself to glance up, and Dean's heart breaks a little at how mournful his expression is. “I never knew if I should stay away permanently. But I couldn't stop myself from coming back. I had to see you,” Cas shakes his head a little, closing his eyes.

“Whatever I did, or said, you were angry with me. You pulled away from me continuously as though you couldn't bear to be near me. You were angry when I went away, and angry when I arrived,” Cas' hands fall heavily to the bed, and he realises he's the one doing all the talking after all. “I got accustomed to it, Dean. I felt like I deserved it. But I don't know why I deserved it. And now, I don't believe that I did.”

Dean's standing before he knows it and he's sitting down on the bed, leaning over Cas, resting one hand against the headboard as he does. Cas is understandably startled and shrinks back from him, which Dean can't help but wince at seeing.

“Cas,” he tries softly, “I am so,  _ so  _ sorry. For all of that. You're right, you didn't deserve any of it. It was all my fault, my...insecurities.”

Cas frowns at his words.

“I mean,” and Dean's cheeks flush; Cas flicks his gaze down at them in alarm, “Man, I suck at this. I mean. I meant. Whatever I did, or said to you? It was because of  _ me _ . Because of how I was feeling. Not you,”

“I do not understand, Dean.”

“I mean,” Dean's voice drops lower as he leans in closer, barely a gap to breathe between them, “I mean. I was pushing you away because I was feeling things. I  _ am _ . Feeling... things. For you. And I'll be damned if I know how to deal with it.” He stares at Cas then, willing him to understand.

Cas stares back curiously. “Feel things,” he repeats, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, Cas.  _ Feel  _ things. Like...you know.”

“Please stop  _ saying  _ that, Dean. I do  _ not  _ know,” Cas is exasperated, and Dean has to pull back from the intensity on his face.

“Okay, okay,” Dean raises his hands in surrender. “Cas, I'm really trying here, okay?”

Cas breathes a little shallowly but nods.

“I care about you, Cas. I hope you know that, underneath everything else.”

Cas nods again, very slowly. “And I am grateful for the care you have given me since I... arrived here.”

“No, Cas. I don't just mean... care for you, like... taking care of you when you're sick.  _ Care  _ care.”

“What does that even  _ mean  _ ?” Cas' voice raises higher with his confusion.

“It means, Cas. It means... It means I...fuck...” And now Dean's letting out an exasperated sigh at himself. “It means,” he tries again. “I means I  _ feel  _ things. For you. That I never intended to feel. That I've not felt for anyone for the longest time. That maybe I've not felt before,” he adds, softly.

“It  _ means. _ ..” And he takes another breath. “It means. It means I worry about you, constantly. And that I think about you, all the time. It's like I can't get you out of my head, Cas, and it scares me. It terrifies me. I'm...out of control with it. It's … it's why I've been... It's why I...” and he trails off again.

“You feel things. For me,” Cas repeats, asking for clarification.

“Yeah, Cas. I do. And I'm scared, okay? I don't know how to deal with it. Which means I keep fucking everything up.” Dean leans back from Cas, runs a hand roughly over his head and cuffs the back of his neck, his face the picture of frustration.

“I am...surprised.” Cas eventually manages, and Dean laughs.

“Yeah, I get that, Cas.”

“You have taken such good care of me since...” and Cas doesn't really know what to refer to, so shrugs. “And yet all I keep remembering is how you were before. It is such a contrast.”

“I hate that,” Dean whispers, “I hate that my behaviour's been so different towards you, Cas. You don't know, how many times I've tried to stop myself from... doing, all that I did.”

“You have taken very good care of me,” Cas repeats, and his tone is more gentle now.

“I wish we never had to, Cas. I wish you didn't need it. I can't... you gave up so much...” Dean's voice is sad, full of regret.

“I am sorry that you felt you had to take care of me,” Cas mumbles, and Dean's eyes grow wide.

“ _ No _ , Cas. No, that's not what I meant at all. I'd take care of you every day for the rest of our lives if that's what you needed, Cas. I meant,” and he pauses there for a moment, taking in his own words, and finding them true, “I meant you gave up being an angel. For  _ this _ . It's not much of an exchange,”

“I am aware of what I did.”

“And you can't go back.”

“Not that I am aware of, no.” Cas' tone is level, and Dean can't make out at all how Cas feels about that.

“I'm so sorry, Cas.” Dean hesitates for a second but reaches out and lightly grips Cas' arm. “Not... I'm not sorry you're here. Actually it's kind of a relief knowing you can't disappear on me,” he laughs lightly, “But... I'm sorry you lost your angel mojo. For this. I can't ever repay that.”

Cas looks down at Dean's hand on his arm. “There is nothing to repay.”

“Doesn't mean I won't keep on trying,” Dean squeezes his arm a little, and it makes Cas look up. “I'll do anything I can, Cas. Anything to make...  _ living _ ... easier. If you'll let me.”

Cas doesn't know what to say, or think, or do.

The silence between them grows uncomfortable, and finally, Cas breaks eye contact. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Dean. But I find myself quite tired now.”

“Of course,” and Dean's moving his hand away, standing awkwardly. Cas hates that he feels bereft by that. “I'll let you sleep.”

“Thank you,”

Dean stands for a minute, as though not sure if he should leave, or sit back down, or anything. And then he nods, walks towards the door, pausing there before he goes.

“Cas,” he says, over his shoulder.

“Yes, Dean.”

“Thanks for listening.”

“Thank you for...explaining,” Cas says, but he's still more than a little unsure about what exactly Dean has explained.

“Can I come back tomorrow? Talk some more?”

Cas bites down on his lip, stopping a flow of words from escaping. Words like  _ don't go  _ and  _ please don't leave _ , things he doesn't think he should even want to be saying, let alone to actually feel. Eventually he gives a small, “Of course,” and wriggles down in the bed, indicating his plan to go back to sleep.

Which of course, neither of them do at all well that night.

***

“You said you 'couldn't help being drawn to me'.”

It's the fourth, perhaps the fifth time Dean and Cas have attempted a serious conversation, and they've all been stumbling and awkward events, but with honesty and hopefully a little understanding.

Cas hasn't been immediately forgiving, and he hasn't been that trustful either. But he's starting to soften, to not twist Dean's words, to not expect the worst from what he's saying.

There are still occasions when Cas stares at Dean as though he is expecting him to erupt at any minute, and every time this happens, Dean can do nothing but observe the change in Cas’ demeanor with abject horror. Cas relaxes a little, looking comfortable, and then Dean sees him almost instantly tense up again, bracing for whatever wrath he thinks Dean's going to rain down on him.

Dean aches at that, at what he's turned Cas into. He's not sure he's ever going to forgive himself for it. But he's going to keep trying. It's all he's got to give him.

They've not held back though; when there have been things to ask, or things to admit, they've been as open as they can be. But they've still skirted around a lot of stuff, and Dean knows it's all got to come out sometime soon.

So he waits, forcing himself to look at Cas even though he wants to run, far away.

Cas gives a hesitant nod. “I did.”

“What did you mean by that, exactly?”

For a minute Dean thinks Cas isn't going to respond, and then, “It means. I believe it means that what you said about having...feelings... for me. I believe I reciprocate.”

Cas is now the one waiting for Dean to respond, and he is expecting anger, disgust, anything that will be negative.

Instead, Dean just purses his lips together, and sighs. “I wondered about that.”

“You wondered?”

“Yeah,” and Dean laughs, smiling to himself. “I guess I thought. I mean I thought maybe. I... wondered if you felt the same too. Like... if you felt something for me. I guess that didn't help,” he mumbles, and the second the words leave his mouth he knows he's said the wrong thing yet again.

Dean groans, eyes turning up towards the ceiling, “Can't I say a  _ single  _ thing without fucking it up?” he protests to himself, before looking back down at Cas. “I didn't mean it was your fault. I meant it just added to my... confusion. About how I was feeling. Wondering if you felt it too.”

Dean replays his words and groans again, slumping down and covering his face with his hand.

“I swear Cas. If –  _ when _ , you and me come out the other side of this shit, we are never talking like this again. It's too hard,” he complains, and Cas can't stop himself from smiling.

“Neither of us are very good at this, Dean.”

“No,” Dean agrees, “But technically I've had a lot more practice than you at it. I should probably be better at it.”

“Perhaps not the best practice.”

“True,” Dean nods, and when he looks at Cas then, he thinks he sees a softening in his expression that he's not given him before. It gives him a hope to cling on to.

“Cas,” And Dean leans forward; they're currently sat at opposite ends of Dean's bed, Dean having finally convinced Cas to leave his room, even if it's only a couple of metres down the hall. “This thing. Between us. It's... big. I've never felt so mixed up about a person before, you know?”

“And I have never felt  _ anything  _ for another person.” Cas points out, which brings a blush to Dean's cheeks.

“We're kind of a mess, right?” Dean laughs softly.

Cas shrugs, but smiles back.

“So what are we gonna do?” Dean asks, because he's sure he doesn't know himself.

Cas looks away. “I don't know.”

“Not helpful, Cas,” he chides, but it's with affection and Cas knows it. “Listen,” and Dean's suddenly leaning forward with a kind of urgency. “I hate this. I mean I really hate this. This talking thing. But we've got to. We've  _ got  _ to, Cas.” he pleads, and Cas nods.

“I know.”

“How about we start with dropping the word  _ feelings _ ? It's kinda driving me crazy,” Dean says, sitting back up from where he's slumped a little forward, and running a hand through his hair.

“What word would you suggest in its place?”

“I meant maybe we could stop  _ saying  _ feelings and start talking about what they actually were.  _ Are _ ,” and Dean's face flushes with colour.

“Such as,” Cas prompts, feeling his heart taking off.

“Such as, Cas. When I said I had feelings for you. What I meant was that for the longest time...” and he stops, clearly debating with himself. Then his whole face takes on a look of determination, and he says, as clearly as he can, “I couldn't stand being too close to you... because all I want to do is touch you. All of the time,”

Cas sucks in a breath that he holds on to for what seems far too long.

“I pushed you away because if I didn't... If I didn't... I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I  _ ache  _ to touch you, Cas. All of you,” and there's real pain in Dean's voice when he says that, partly because he's actually admitted it and partly because that's what he actually feels.

“I wake. In the middle of the night, and my bed's just...drenched with sweat.”

Cas' eyes shoot wide in horror and he finds himself leaning over to Dean. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Dean laughs, protesting, shaking his head. “Not sick, Cas. I dream about you, Cas. About... _ being _ ...with you,” he adds, making sure he keeps his eyes firmly on Cas' even though it is torture to force himself to do so.

“'Being'?”

“Cas,” Dean pleads again, but he finds now he's started saying the words, they're coming out all by themselves anyway. “I  _ want  _ you, Cas. As in. Physically. I wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath because five seconds before I'd been...we'd been... in my dreams...we were-”

“Having sex?” Cas finishes for him, his voice nothing more than a gasp.

Dean winces a little but nods, “Yeah, Cas. Sex.” and then he laughs again, “Funny thing is, I'm not even sure how we'd go about it. I mean I  _ know  _ in theory, but...I've not...that... done that. Before. You know. With...with a guy. But I know I want to. I know I want it. With you,” Dean's breath is shaky and uneven.

Cas is breathing unevenly too, and staring back at him with the widest of eyes, and Dean's starting to worry now that he's said too much. And then, “I have had the same dreams, Dean. Since being here. And before...when I was still...” and his voice trails off for a moment before he squares his jaw, “I thought about it often then also.”

Dean breathes out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. “You did? I mean... you have? You do?”

“Yes.”

“Well. That... that makes things easier,” Dean finishes weakly, but smiles gratefully in Cas' direction. Cas smiles back, and for what feels like the first time in a long time, the smile is held, and whole, and meant.

“I thought about touching you too, Dean. And kissing you. This...  _ wanting _ ...it's so constant. So distracting,” Cas' eyes are on Dean's lips, and it feels like Dean's heart is trying to leap from his chest.

“I know, Cas. I know.”

They are both silent then, each with their own thoughts to work through and their own relief to feel.

And then Dean is across the bed and leaning next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Listen, Cas,” Dean says, and he hesitates but reaches out, curling his fingers in between Cas'. He smiles down in wonder at that image in wonder for a moment before pressing on.

“We don't have to change anything between us. I mean we  _ do _ , I'm not suggesting I go back to being an asshole all the time,” he quickly adds. “I just mean. I don't think there should be any pressure here for something to happen, or not happen. I mean I want something to happen, but...the details...well. You  _ know  _ the details, Cas. Any of this making any sense by any chance?”

Cas looks down at their joined hands, then reaches across and covers them with his other. “I believe you are trying to reassure me that there is no hurry for us to... do anything.” Cas frowns at himself, and suddenly Dean is hit by the comedy that is the two of them.

He bites back the huge smile he feels forming on his face, but he can't stop it, and pretty soon he's laughing, first small, then big, loud guffaws that make him throw back his head and need to wipe his eyes, though his hand remains firmly entwined around Cas'.

Cas smiles, more than a little bewildered.

“Look at us,” Dean splutters out. “God, just look at us. We're pathetic,” and he's off, laughing again.

“Dean,” Cas tries, but Dean's shaking his head.

“No, listen, Cas.” Dean squeezes his hand. “You and me. There's...we've always... there's always been a...something, between us. You know it, right? Everyone knows it. And before I got all jumpy about it, maybe it woulda just sort of...drifted. Into whatever it is it's gonna be.” Dean smiles then, eyes watery from his laughter. “You reckon we could get back to that part? Like... I'm not asking you to completely forget everything since but...you think we could try?”

“We can try, Dean,” Cas says carefully, “Although I do not know what – or how – we are going to try.”

“Me neither,” Dean agrees, “But let's just not make it complicated, okay? If we can help it?”

“How do we do that?”

“Well. I think. If we... want something. Or need something. We're just gonna have to say. Or do it. Or...” And Dean's shrugging, because he's not sure what he's trying to say either.

“We'll...figure it out,” Cas says, because there's nothing much else he can say.

“We will,” Dean agrees, smiling warmly at him.

***

Neither of them get much better at words, but words have never been the only way of the two of them communicating.

They grow comfortable in each other's personal space again, leaning into a shoulder or resting a hand on an arm for what would be far too long on anyone else. There are smiles, both confident and bashful ones, and sometimes when they need to pass each other something their fingers touch, and linger.

When they sit together on the couch, or a bed, there's no longer a gap between them, just shoulder pressed to shoulder, and hip pressed to hip. One of their hands eventually finds the other's, and they're happy to just sit like that for what feels like hours.

When Cas does his first load of laundry on his own and looks so proud of himself for figuring out the machine, Dean reaches up to high five him, but before Cas can put down his hand Dean twists his fingers in between Cas' and brings their hands down together, holding them there whilst he leans in to give him a soft, chaste kiss.

And when Cas is making coffee, Dean finds himself coming up behind him, looping an arm around his waist with his fingers finding their way beneath his shirt to stroke across the skin there, pressing Cas back against his chest, while Dean drops his head forward to rest on Cas' shoulder. Cas tenses for a moment then puts down the coffee, and brings his hands up to rest over Dean's arm, letting his head fall back with a soft huff.

Of course it isn't all simple. Cas still freezes up from time to time as though a particular memory suddenly strikes him, and as careful as Dean is not to speak without thinking first, it still happens from time to time.

But they're doing okay.

Cas' relationship with Sam has changed too, and only for the better.There are morning runs together, and shared interests in so many things it's like they never run out of subjects to talk about. Dean sometimes feels a little left out when they're 'doing their thing', but one reassuring smile from Cas and he's okay again.

Sam always looks to Cas for backup when he's losing an argument with Dean, and Cas, ever the pacifier, tries to present an unbiased view to them both. Dean often accuses them of ganging up on him, but it's never meant with any malice; he really likes seeing them getting on together so naturally. He hopes it goes a long way to reassure Cas over and over that he really is part of this family, as messed up a family as it is.

Sam doesn't ask about the changes in Dean's and Cas' relationship. Partly because he's not blind, and partly because he knows they're as uncertain about what it is as he is. He just watches, grinning to himself when they're not looking, rolling his eyes on occasion, and excusing himself quickly when things between them get too much for him to handle being in the same room for.

But Sam is pleased – relieved – that finally, they've got their heads out of their asses and have resolved, or are working to resolve, this thing that's been an elephant in the room of their lives for so long.

***

The first real argument Cas and Dean get into is over a motorcycle.

Dean catches Cas eyeing up a bike in the garage, a slick, silver number that Cas lightly strokes a hand along with a fond smile on his face.

“I miss flying,” Cas says to Dean when he comes up and stands across from him on the other side of the bike.

“Yeah, I guess you would,” Dean says, full of guilt, which Cas hears and shakes his head at.

“I don't miss it badly enough to want to go back,” he says, and Dean's rested a hand against the seat of the bike which Cas now covers. Dean twists his hand a little so he can grab Cas' fingers in thanks.

“But I think I'd like to try this,” Cas continues, patting the bike with his free hand.

Dean tilts forward as though he's misheard what Cas has just said. “Uh uh. No way,” Dean says, with finality, shaking his head.

Cas arches an eyebrow up at him that says  _ just try and stop me _ .

“Cas. You're human now.”

“Are you telling me humans don't ride motorcycles? It would seem somewhat pointless for there to be so many of them available if no one can ride them,”

“Yeah, true. But not you, Cas.”

“Not me?” Cas pulls his hand away from Dean, and at first Dean worries that he's offended him, and then he just plain worries.

“No, Cas. Not you. These things are dangerous. Too many accidents waiting to happen.”

“Are you saying I'm incapable?” And Cas crosses his arms, bristling with offence.

“No. I'm saying they're dangerous. And I don't want you on one, got it?”

“No, Dean. I don't 'get it'. And if I want to ride one then I'll ride one. If you're so concerned about my safety perhaps you can demonstrate how,”

Dean is temporarily rendered stupid by the air quotations that only Cas can make so funny, adorable and downright silly all at the same time. But he's not out for long. “No, Cas. I really don't want you on one of these,” he pleads.

“So you're telling me that I use weapons, and I do hand to hand combat with all kinds of creatures and demons and... things, when we go on hunts together. But that you don't trust me to ride a bike?” Cas' tone is all incredulous and annoyed, raising his chin a little in defiance as he draws himself up to full height.

Dean grips down hard on the bike. “I just don't want you on one, Cas. Okay?”

Clearly Cas didn't think it was okay, because he's storming off, slamming the door of the garage as hard as he can, leaving Dean to groan to himself and continue to grip hard on to the bike in front of him.

In the past, Dean would have left Cas to sulk. He would have gone about his own business, pretending everything was fine, and hope that sometime later Cas would come round, or forgive him.

But it's not the past now. So he sucks it up, takes a breath, and follows him.

He finds Cas in his room.

“You don't knock, Dean?”

Okay, Dean tells himself, Cas is well and truly pissed off. He gets that. “Didn't think either of us needed to anymore, Cas,”

Cas glowers up at him from the bed, angrily turning the pages of a magazine he's clearly not reading.

“Cas,” Dean reasons, “Look. I know I'm a bit-”

“Overbearing?” Cas suggests, still not looking up and with a particularly sharp turning of a page causing it to tear, swearing to himself.

“I was going with protective, actually.”

Cas does nothing but huff in response.

Honesty, Dean thinks, curling and uncurling his fingers at his sides. “Cas,” he begins, “Can I just explain why?”

“I am sure you are going to anyway,”

Dean knows that tone, and grimaces accordingly. “Do you know what it'd do to me if anything happened to you?”

Cas keeps turning the pages but they're a little less in danger of ripping. Dean chooses to take that as a good sign and works with it.

“I don't mean, do you know what it'd do to me because I'd feel guilty about it. I mean I would, of course. But have you any idea what it'd do to me, personally, if I lost you?” Dean's voice has grown soft enough for Cas to pause, and look up.

Cas is surprised by what he sees; it's as though Dean's folded in on himself. He pushes the magazine from his lap, and continues to stare up at him.

“'Cos I gotta tell you, Cas. You... you've no idea what it'd do to me. I couldn't. I just could deal with it, okay? I can't. I can't lose you, not now, not ever. Can't you see that?” Dean's voice has grown shaky, as though he's really imagining what it would be like to lose Cas from his life right in that moment.

“I know I treat you with kid gloves, Cas. I know it. But you gotta understand why. It isn't because I don't trust you. It's because I don't trust what I'd do if I lost you,”

Cas keeps on looking at him as Dean pleads with him, “I can't lose you, Cas.”

And Cas is up, throwing his arms around Dean's neck and pressing himself against him, closing his eyes as he feels Dean's arms tighten around his waist as he whispers again, “I can't lose you.”

Dean noses his way into his neck, straining to place a kiss there as he mumbles into his ear, “I can't lose you,”

The kiss hits his jaw, his cheek, his chin, before finally, Dean's lips are on Cas' and he's breathing him deep, holding on tighter than ever. Cas' eyes flutter closed and he reaches one hand up to cup the back of Dean's neck as he returns the kiss with all that he's got.

And Dean's holding on, desperate to make Cas understand why the slightest chance of him losing him tears him up to the point of making him crazy. He's backing him up against the bed, lowering himself down over Cas, and kissing him with such a ferocity of  _ need  _ that he’s certain Cas can’t fail to understand.

***

There was  _ before, _  and there was  _ after _ .

_ After _ .

Slow, steady acceptance of what they are to each other. Gaining trust. Working on honesty.

_ After _ .

The need, the want to touch; the impossibility of staying away from each other for too long; rolling of their eyes at just how  _ needy  _ they now are for each other, always followed by a smile, and kisses.

_ After _ .

Sleepless nights, but only of the best kind. Constant worry, but of out of affection, needing constant reassurance that the other is okay. Conversations that don't need words. Love.

And  _ now _ ?

Now, they are seeing what happens. And they're doing that together.

  
  
  



End file.
